Harold's Excellent Adventure
by Accidental Cougar
Summary: Harold wanted excitement, adventure and romance. He went to Dodge to find them.
1. Chapter 1

**Harold's Excellent Adventure**

I don't own these characters; I just like to spend time with them. No other profit to be had.

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The tall, toothsome blond haired young man in the tweed coat and derby hat stood outside the stage office in Dodge City, Kansas looking every bit the dude that he was. Glancing around him, he politely waited for the stage driver to hand him his luggage. Well, perhaps luggage was something of a misnomer.

Eschewing the large trunk and two suitcases his mother had insisted on, the boy had stuffed as much of his clothing, as he could, in a large carpet bag and left the remainder in his hotel room in St. Louis with a note, instructing the clerk to ship them to his parents. He was going on an adventure, he was, and large, heavy luggage just didn't fit in with his plans.

When the driver handed him his, now worn and tattered carpet bag, the 20 year old boy adjusted his dusty clothes about him, squared his broad shoulders and set off down the street. First order of business was to find a hotel room. Then he would order a bath and get a shave. Although, looking at his reflection in a storefront, there didn't seem to be much to shave. "Wish I had as much facial hair as my mother." He muttered to himself regretfully.

With the sigh of one who knew he was doomed to suffer due to heritage, he hoisted his bag and sauntered down the street looking in the windows of each place he passed and frankly ogling the men and women he found on his journey. The people here were somehow different than he was used to.

Certainly their clothing was. One didn't see men in jeans and boots and tall ten gallon hats like they wore out here. And back home, women wore crinolines and layers upon layers of clothe topped by complicated hats of various shapes and components. The women he'd seen so far wore simple homespun dresses and bonnets. He did see a couple of ladies with hats, well adorned with feathers and the like, but they added to the ladies looks rather than detracted from them, like they did at home.

The boy was impressed so far.

Of course, it didn't take too much to impress him.

It was while he was thinking of this that he literally bumped, head first, into a burley man who was just coming out of the leather goods shop.

"Hey, boy!" The man warned gruffly. "Watch where yer a goin'."

The young man swallowed hard and took a quick step back from the massive stranger in front of him. Broad as he was tall with arms and legs as thick as tree trunks, the boy had no desire to tangle with such as him. "I'm sorry, Mister." He groveled. "I truly did not mean to bother you."

For several seconds the man glowered at the young dude in front of him, trying to decide if he should let the boy go or show the boy who was boss. The sight of Matt Dillon moving just down the street was enough to decide for him. "Well, alright then." He snarled. "But don't let it happen again." Hoisting his pants a little, he shoved the kid back, turned and left.

Mentally wiping his brow at the close call. The young dude stood and watched him leave, grateful the man had let him off without beating him to a pulp, something he looked more than capable of doing. Finally taking a deep breath, he straightened his hat and picked up his bag, trying to remember where he was going.

As he stood on the boardwalk, the young man suddenly saw the most striking man he'd ever laid eyes on. Why, he had to be at least 6 and a half feet tall. But it wasn't just his height that set him apart. Watching the man, as he made his way down the boardwalk, he was struck by not only the man's chiseled good looks and strong physique by also the way he moved. This man carried himself with grace and a certain air of authority unlike anyone he knew at home. The men had home were usually hunched over and scurrying from one place to another, like his father.

Noting the man had entered the jail house, it dawned on him that he'd just gotten his first glimpse of the famous US Marshal Matt Dillon. This man had been mentioned in more than one of those little dime novels he'd read back home and he realized those books hadn't done him justice. "Wow!" He whispered to himself. "Wow oh wow!"

Smiling to himself, the boy finally remembered where he was going and ambled on down the street, locating the hotel on his right. As he entered, he was pleased to see a reasonably nice lobby that actually looked clean. Not what he'd expected.

Of course, he actually didn't know what to expect. Harold P. Stanton the third had been raised in the wealthiest enclaves of New York and the closest he had ever come to the Wild West was the dime novels he borrowed from the maid's son. But what he read in those novels had sparked a genuine desire in him to '_experience the west'_, as one of those slim little tomes had put it.

"Go West, Young Man." One circular had advised and as soon as Harold was old enough and had squirreled away enough of his generous weekly allowance, he did.

And now here he was in what was purported to be the wildest town west of the Mississippi. Gommorrah of the Plaines. Oh, if only his mother could see him now.

Well, on second thought, perhaps it was best if she knew very little of his travels. His mother was given to fainting spells and hysterical fits when she heard or saw something she didn't like. His father often joked she spent more time with her smelling salts then she did him, simply because she didn't like too much of anything and was constantly needing them.

Yes, it was most definitely a good idea for his mother to know as little as possible. Especially since she thought him no further west than St. Louis. Now, please understand. Harold did not lie to his parents when he told them that he wanted to visit St. Louis. He did want to and he did visit there. But, unlike what he led them to believe, he didn't stay there.

Harold wanted excitement and adventure and romance, all of which he'd never had in his 20 years. And he was certain he would not be able to obtain those things should he abstain from venturing past the staid hierarchy of wealthy New York society. So, as soon as suitable passage could be made to Dodge City, Kansas, Harold P Stanton was on his way.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Harold stepped back out onto the streets of Dodge, ready to take on the world. He'd gotten a room and a bath and though Mr. Teeters looked at him strangely, the shave he insisted on. He now reeked of Attar of Roses and his face was as shiny as a baby's b... Well, let's just say it was shiny. But he thought he smelled and looked nice. Definitely better than the cologne his father sometimes wore and the whiskers his mother constantly tried to hide.

He'd also gone to the mercantile and bought himself a new pair of jeans, a shirt, a jacket and the biggest Stetson hat the owner had. He was positive he now looked more like he belonged there.

He was wrong.

Now it was time to really begin his adventures. First order of business was a drink. From the novels he'd read, no man in the west could call himself such, unless he could slug down a shot of whiskey with a smile. He'd never drank anything stronger than soda water, but he was bound and determined to change that today. Looking around, he spied someone, he thought, might know where he could go to do that.

"Say, Mister." Harold addressed the gray haired old man sitting outside of the general store. "Can you tell me the best place to get a drink around here?"

The old man raised faded blue eyes to the young man in front of him with a thoughtful expression on his wrinkled and careworn face. This boy was a dude if he'd ever saw one, despite his brand new western duds. He doubted the boy had ever taken a drink in his life, but as the fresh faced youngster had asked and it wasn't polite not to reply, he answered truthfully.

"Well, now, sonny, that depends on what ya mean by 'Best'. Now if ya want the best kept place, well that'd be the Long Branch, just down the street there. If ya mean the one with the best looking girls and prettiest owner, well that'd be the Long Branch too. They ain't no woman in Dodge, half so pretty as Miss Kitty with all that red hair and such. If ya mean the one with the best liquor, well, you guessed it, the Long Branch. If'n ya want the one with the best card games and dealers, yep that'd be the Long Branch too. But if ya was to mean the one with the best price, well that'd be the Lady Gay. They ain't pretty over there and their whiskey's watered but it's cheap."

The young man smiled uncertainly. "Okay. Well, thank you, sir." He said as he tipped his hat to the old gentleman and started off down the street in the direction the old man had pointed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know all of that but he got the information he wanted. Looking up, he spotted it. The Long Branch.

The old man had been correct. It was well kept inside and out with a very classy look to it, including fine paneling and wallpaper. That fact somewhat surprised him as he'd not expected to see such splendor in a cow town like Dodge. But he was pleased to know that his first experience would be in such a place.

As he pushed into the saloon, Harold's eyes practically devoured every thing within his view. From the tall upright piano and the man playing it, to the polished mahogany bar and bright brass spittoons and on to the felt covered tables and the men and women sitting at them. "Ah!" He said to himself. "This is what I've always wanted to see. This is the true west."

Behind the bar was a tall craggy faced man with dark hair and mustache and a deep baritone voice. His vest, apron and position behind the bar, identified him as the bartender.

Next to him stood a stunning woman with beautiful red hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Older than the other girls he saw but fair of face and form, he pegged her immediately as the owner; the old man had spoken of.

Traversing the floor carrying trays of full beer mugs to the tables and returning to the bar with empty ones, he saw three very pretty girls. One blonde and two brunettes. Each one worked diligently and quickly but never hesitating to stop and chat, should someone hail them.

Once he'd adjusted to all that he beheld from the entryway, Harold made his way quickly to the bar, thumping on the top with a practiced air, although he'd never actually been in a saloon before. "Bartender." He deepened his voice to something a little deeper than his normal high pitch.

"Yes, sir." Sam smiled genially at the boy, for he didn't look to be more than 18 or 19 at the most. "Can I help you?"

"Um, yes, my good man." Harold returned the smile. "I would like a bottle of your finest whiskey and two clean glasses, please."

Sam exchanged an amused glance with Kitty. They both knew a phony when they saw one. But, as requested, Sam reached to the shelf behind him and grabbed a bottle of Kitty's special. Placing it on the bar in front of the dude with two glasses. "That'll be three dollars." Sam told him.

Reaching into his pocket, Harold extracted the required amount and placed it onto the bar top as he claimed the bottle and glasses and swiftly made his way over towards Kitty. "Madam, I was wondering if I could request the honor of your joining me for a libation?" He asked politely.

Kitty stifled her amusement at the young dude in front of her and shook her head. "I'm sorry." She gave him a gracious but apologetic smile. "I'm really quite busy right now. But I'm sure any one of the girls would be delighted to sit with you for a while."

Harold looked at the girls appraisingly for a moment before returning his gaze to Kitty. "While they are very attractive," he sighed. "They are not quite what I had in mind. You see, I prefer a much more mature woman, such as yourself."

Kitty arched a brow at him, not sure whether he was trying to compliment her or was calling her old. She chose the former. "Well, as flattered as I am," she said, "I really can't. But you have a nice evening." Shaking her head, she turned towards her office, calling back over her shoulder. "Sam, I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam answered.

Harold stood for several long moments after Kitty left, saying nothing and doing nothing, as he stared at the door she'd gone through. She was so pretty. He never seen a woman like that before. Certainly the women at home could never measure up. Most of them looked like his mother.

He might have stood there a while longer but it finally dawned on him that he'd bought a bottle of whiskey and hadn't taken a drink of it so far. Summoning up the courage, he uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into one of the glasses and brought the fowl smelling liquid to his lips.

Although, his first inclination was to set the glass back down and quickly leave, he was acutely aware that others around him were watching his every move. Determined not to be embarrassed, he opened his mouth and threw the drink down his throat. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was to very loudly choke and spew the offending liquid from his mouth onto the man standing beside him.

"Hey!" The man yelled. "What the…?" Without warning the now, slightly damp and completely furious, cowboy grabbed Harold by the shirt and threw a roundhouse punch, knocking the boy senseless. Harold P Stanton the Third was down for the count.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Harold P Stanton the Third had never been struck in anger before in his life. As a matter of fact, he'd never been struck at all in his life. Therefore, the young man from New York was woefully unprepared for the pain he felt as he slowly came round in Doc's office.

His head was on fire with an agony beyond description and his stomach convulsed violently several times before finally settling down. His vision was unfocused and when he painfully opened his eyes, it was several minutes before things stopped revolving.

When he was finally able to stop the spinning, he looked around at the room, he found himself in. He took note of the degrees on the wall and the large medicine cabinet filled with various bottles and tins and surmised he must have been taken to the local physician. He was glad for that as he was certain, terrible if not permanent damage must have been done by the ferocious man who'd hit him.

"Well, you're awake." A voice spoke from somewhere to his right. Turning his head slowly, he saw an older man, gray of hair and mustache shuffling over to him.

Harold nodded his sore head slightly as he slowly rose into a sitting position and swung his legs off of the table he'd been laying on. "Who are you?" He asked.

"My names Doctor Adams. You're in my office." Doc watched him for signs of anything worse then a slight concussion. "How's your head feeling?"

Harold shrugged slightly. "Well, my head certainly aches." He sighed, gingerly touching his bruised jaw. "That vile man, that hit me, must have fractured my skull or at least my jaw. He might have even given me brain damage."

Doc stopping himself from chuckling but shook his head. "Nope, none of that. Jase hit you pretty hard, that's for sure, but nothing's broken or fractured or damaged, you're just bruised. You will need to take it a little easy for a while, but you'll be fine."

Harold cast a suspicious eye on the older man as he gathered the strength necessary to gain his feet. Having accomplished that, he looked around carefully, so as not to jostle his aching head, trying to find his hat and jacket, both of which were missing.

"You, uh, looking for something?" Doc asked as he watched him.

"Yes," Harold answered. "My hat and coat seem to be missing."

"No, they're not." Doc shook his head and stepped over to his coat tree and extracted the requested items. "I hung them up for you."

Accepting his belongings, Harold quickly felt inside his jacket pocket, finding, with some surprise, that his wallet was there. A quick check, after pulling it out, confirmed that nothing had been taken from it.

"You expected it to be gone?" Doc asked shrewdly.

"Yes." Harold answered truthfully. "I have heard many vile things of you people out here. One can not be too careful."

"Hmpf." Doc scowled at the young man. "Have you ever heard of me?"

Harold frowned. "Of course I haven't."

"Exactly." Doc said triumphantly without explanation.

Harold started to ask what that meant but decided it might wise to refrain. "How much do I owe you, Doctor?" He asked instead.

Normally, Doc would've never charged the young man for doing little more than giving him a once over and providing him a place to rest for a couple of hours, but this young dude had irritated him. "Ten dollars." He said, with a serious expression, fully expecting the young man to balk at the price.

But Harold said nothing as he pulled the requested sum from his wallet and handed it to the surprised physician. "Here you go, Doctor. And thank you." He said as he took his belongings and left.

Doc looked down at the money in his hand in amazement. That was more money than he'd made in a week. "Well, I'll be." He muttered with a shake of his head.

As Harold descended Doc's stairs, he looked around the town trying to decide where to go next. He had come to the west for adventure and excitement but so far, all he'd received was a sore jaw and his first burning taste of whiskey. He was not about to go home with nothing more to show for his time and money than that.

"Well, hello." A bright and cheerful voice sounded from behind him. "How's your head feeling?"

Harold turned to see the stunning red head from the Long Branch. She was even prettier in the bright sunlight and gentle breeze of the spring day as it lightly whipped around little wisps of hair that had escaped her coiffure.

"Uh, my head?" He stammered as the full impact of her presence hit him. "Oh, my head! It's much better thank you. The doctor said I will be just fine."

"Oh, good." Kitty smiled.

For Harold, the sun suddenly rose, set and rose again in the space of time that it took her to do so.

Thinking that the young man didn't seem to want conversation, Kitty decided to leave him to his revelries, whatever they were. "Uh, I've got a couple of errands to run so I'd better get along. But I'm glad you're alright. Nice to see you again."

Harold finally remembered his very well taught manners and doffed his hat in the presence of the beautiful lady. "Thank you, Ma'am." He gave her his widest smile, which his mother always said was his best feature. "Could I perhaps escort you to where ever you are going? I mean, a beautiful woman such as yourself should have every protection available to her, don't you think?"

Kitty couldn't help but laugh. Though she knew the boy was probably sincere, she also knew that she'd more than likely be the one to protect him, rather than the other way around. But seeing the puppy dog look on his face, she decided to let him tag along. She was only going to the bank and then Mr. Jonas' store. She doubted he could get into too much trouble in either one of those places, or even more importantly, he couldn't get her into trouble.

"Alright, uh…"

"Harold, Ma'am." He replaced his hat and extended an elbow. Harold P Stanton the third. But you can call me your protector."

Kitty eyed him with no small amount of amusement as she took his arm. "Come on, Harold." She grinned.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****To those readers who have been nothing but wonderful, God Bless You. I thank you very much for your kindness and support. I will try to live up to your confidence in me.**

**To Guest. I am sorry that you do not like my work. But as I do not write for reviews, I do not suffer when I don't get them. I recognize that not everyone likes the same things or people and each of us look at the show and the characters differently. I respect your view and I'm sorry you feel the way you do, about me. I respect all the readers and would never request they read something they don't like by an author they don't care for. **

**Oh, and thank you for the review. ;)**

As Harold walked beside Kitty towards the bank, he felt as though he were king of the world. Having a beautiful woman on your arm, when at home, you couldn't get the attention of even the ugliest girl, would do that for you. Why, Harold imagined that he even bested that tall Marshal, Matt Dillon, as he strutted down the street, Kitty at his side.

That man, though a magnificent specimen of manhood, probably had a mousy brunette as his companion, not the lovely and vivacious red head that Harold was now squiring around town.

For her part, Kitty kept quiet and simply enjoyed the young man's attention, entertained with the almost exaggerated manner in which he pranced beside her. She had the amused impression that should they encounter a mud puddle he would gallantly rip off his coat and throw it across the wet patch in order for her to pass unscathed by the muck and mire.

The bank was rather busy due to it being the end of the month and though Kitty had only to make a simple withdraw from her account, it looked like the wait would be long. "Harold, why don't you go on?" She said as she withdrew her arm from his. "There's no need for you to stand around waiting on me. I have no idea how long this will take."

"No, Miss Russell." Harold shook his head. "I will not allow a lady to go unattended in the wilds of Kansas, while I draw a breath. I shall be more than happy to wait with you."

Kitty started to argue, but changed her mind. She was not only tickled at the young man's front of gallantry but just a touch flattered as well. "Alright, Harold." She smiled at him.

A little over half an hour later Kitty, followed very closely by Harold, exited the bank and headed over to the general store. Harold's dubious charm was beginning to wear a bit thin by then and Kitty was hoping that he'd tire of following her around and seek other entertainment elsewhere.

But as luck would have it, he considered her all the entertainment a man, or in his case, a boy, could want. 'Lucky me.' She thought.

The mercantile, in sharp contrast to the bank, seemed almost deserted as Kitty and Harold walked in. One ragged looking man in a black hat and dirty bandana was lingering near the leather goods table and another man, looking equally as despotic was browsing in the back but no one else was around.

"Oh, hello, Miss Kitty." Jonas smiled at her as she entered. "What can I help you with?"

Kitty cast a suspicious glance at the man up front. Something about him, as well as the other man, bothered her, though she couldn't have said why. But ignoring that little feeling, she handed Jonas a list of things she needed and told him she'd just look around while she waited.

"I'll get started on this right away." He told her as he took the list and disappeared into the back.

Turning once again to Harold, she offered him an apologetic smile. "Harold, honestly. I really do appreciate you accompanying me today but there is no need for you to continue. This is my last stop and I'm perfectly alright here."

"But, Miss Russell, it is no problem." Harold protested. "I do enjoy your company and I want to do it. Besides, you will need someone to carry your packages when you are through with your shopping."

"No, she won't." The black hatted man was suddenly at their side. "Lady ain't gonna need nothing but a pine box less'n she does what she's told." Grabbing her arm tightly, he pulled his gun and placed it against her temple as the other quit his place in the back and joined him. "Ya get my meanin'?"

Kitty took a deep breath, darting a glance at Harold's suddenly pale face. "What do you want?" She managed to keep all trace of fear from her voice and expression.

"Why, you, darlin'." The man grinned, showing stained yellow teeth. "You're Dillon's woman, ain't ya?"

"NO!" Harold gasped, not only shocked at what he'd heard but worried about what these despicable men might do to Miss Russell should they take her. Realizing he'd spoken out loud, Harold straightened his shoulders and glared at the man in front of him. "Let the lady go." He demanded, putting every bit of gusto into his voice as he could manage.

Kitty's eyes widened in surprise. Though Harold looked a bit green, he was doing a passable job of hiding the fear she knew he must be feeling right then. But although she appreciated his attempt, looking at the two bandits who held her, she knew they weren't buying it any more than she was. She was going to have to protect Harold from himself.

"Uh, Harold. It's alright." She forced a smile to her lips. "Honestly. I'm fine. Why don't you go on down to the Long Branch and tell Sam to give you a free drink on the house, huh?"

"Naw, Red." The man from behind her said. "He ain't goin' nowhere, jes yet."

Harold straightened himself even further and forced as much calm and confidence into his voice as possible. "The gentleman is correct." Harold told her. "I will go nowhere without you on my arm." Looking at the man who still held her in his grip, he assumed a demeanor of superiority and pointed a long thin finger in the bandit's direction. "I will not ask again, Sir. Let the lady go!"

For just a moment, no one moved and Kitty had the insane impression that the man holding her was actually considering Harold's demands.

But the spell was abruptly broken when Jonas suddenly came back in from the store room. "Miss Kitty? I don't think I have…" Jonas stopped as the second man whirled around and aimed his gun, firing at the shop owner just seconds after Jonas ducked down behind his counter.

Kitty seeing perhaps her only chance of escape with the distraction, jabbed her elbow into the ribs of her captor and jerked away from him when he loosened his grip. "Run, Harold!" She yelled. "Run!"

But Harold, never the bravest of souls and certainly not the brightest, never the less, refused to flee in the face of danger. Something in Kitty's brave efforts spurred him into action. Seeing that she had ducked away, he rushed forward and head butted her attacker, sending them both to the floor in a tumble.

Jonas' assailant, was busy trying to get at Jonas who'd come up from behind the counter with a broom in his hand and was actively swatting at the man, preventing him from doing much more than cover his face in protection.

Kitty darted from the store, yelling for Matt when she saw him crossing the street. "Matt! Matt!"

Upon hearing Kitty's cry, Matt raced down to the store, gun drawn and ready to take on any and all comers in defense of his lady. However, once he arrived, he found little to do.

Jonas had succeeded in backing his villain backward over a crate, where he'd promptly lost his balance and fell against a table, knocking him out.

His partner had suffered a similar fate, only it was Harold's head and not a broom that had caused him to fall back and hit his head on the floor. When Matt arrived the tally was two for 0 in favor of the Jonas and Harold.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Once again, thank you my dear kind friends for your marvelous remarks. It means more than you know. **

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A week later, Kitty leaned against the bar eating a boiled egg and sipping on a beer while she kept an eye on her business, which was quite brisk. Matt had told her that the two men in Jonas' store had escaped from prison and had been seeking revenge on him. They were now on their way back to their cells, having been picked up by the prison wagon two days ago.

Matt, of course, was apologetic that once again she'd been caught in the middle and more than a little attentive. Although Kitty knew it wasn't his fault and she had told him that, she had to admit she had enjoyed the attention for a while. But all good things must come to an end and the last couple of days she had grown weary of his constant worry.

Harold and Jonas were enjoying the attention they'd been receiving though. Since the details of what happened were made known, both the shop owner and the young man from New York had been hailed as heroes.

Jonas had been holding court at his counter every day and regaling his customers with his brave efforts to thwart the efforts of those masked villains who had threatened the fair Miss Kitty Russell and bring them to justice.

Of course the fact that they weren't masked and that he'd only managed the stop that one man was because the hapless would-be kidnapper had fallen over a crate, never crept into the conversation. And Kitty, Harold nor Matt contradicted him. It was too much fun to watch him.

Harold of course, suddenly found himself the center of much female adulation and male admiration as he modestly told of his courageous refusal to leave a damsel in distress and how he bravely rushed into a hail of bullets to save her.

Once again a couple of facts were ignored. Like the fact that no bullets were actually fired. But also once again, there was no contradiction coming from the other people who truly knew what happened.

Now to be sure, Harold tried to keep his ego in check as he was treated to endless rounds of free drinks and a pat on the back from the fellas. But it was hard to do when many a young lady would wink at him or offer to let him accompany them home. Or the many times a gray haired mother, willingly and obligingly, would bake pies and treats for him, in the hope that he would favor their daughter over some other worthy young lady.

For the green kid from a sheltered life in New York it was heady stuff indeed. At home, he was the one who actively pursued the young girls he found attractive, only to be spurned time and again. Here, he merely had to twitch a finger in order to gain their attention.

But alas, popularity only lasts for just so long and fads and fashions and heroes eventually lose their luster. And so it was to be for Harold. Though to be sure, people weren't unkind to Harold and he was still greeted with a smile in most places. But most had grown tired of hearing of his one exploit and when he approached, mouth open and ready to tell more, they would hurriedly find other places to be and other things to do.

Harold, at first, didn't fully understand this change in attitude and when he practically insisted on escorting Miss Betty Lou Summers home, he received a nice shiny black eye from her brother in reply. Taking his troubles to Miss Kitty, the only one he thought would sympathize with his plight; he explained how cold people were suddenly acting towards him.

With a sigh, and a weary shake of her head, Kitty quietly explained to the young man, that no matter how valiant your deed, or the amount of danger you faced in the aid of another, people would only celebrate your feat for just a short period of time. Especially out here on the prairie where valiant men abounded and a new daring deed would be accomplished every day or so.

To stay the darling of the town and to keep the shining aura of a hero, one had to constantly _be_ a hero, like Marshal Dillon. One act alone would not suffice.

Harold finally understood and though sad to see his Dodge City escapades over with, he knew it was now time to return home. And so it was that on a hot summer morning, Harold P. Stanton the Third gallantly kissed the hand of Miss Kitty Russell of Dodge City and climbed on board the first train heading east.

He would miss the town that had given him his greatest adventure and first real taste of man hood. And he knew, unless the fates and his father intervened, his mother would most likely never let him go on another such journey. But alas it could not be helped. Of course, he consoled himself with the thought that those at home had yet to hear of his feats of daring do and did not as easily grow tired of hearing such things.

Perhaps all was not lost, after all.

Kitty grinned when she thought of the young man. He still had a lot of growing up to do, and would most likely face many obstacles in getting there, but she had a feeling, eventually, he'd succeed, despite his mother.

"Kitty." Matt walked up beside her and leaned down on the bar beside to meet her at eye level. "Business looks pretty good tonight."

Kitty turned and smiled at him. No matter the reason, she was always glad to see him there. "Yeah, we've got a couple of good games going and with it being so hot outside, inside with a beer seems to be a better alternative."

Matt nodded and looked around the bar room and then back at her. "You sure you're alright?" He asked in a low voice.

Kitty sighed and gave him a reprovingly look. "Matt, I'm fine. Honestly. They didn't hurt me. I even let Doc poke around on me to prove it, remember?"

"They could have." He reminded her.

"But they didn't." She said again. "Matt, how can I prove to you that I am just fine?"

Matt studied her beautiful face for a moment, before a thought hit him. "You can show me." He grinned.

"Show you?" She was a little confused. He'd spent the last couple of nights with her and she hadn't exactly been fully clothed. How much more could she have shown him? "How?" She placed a hand on her hip and arched a brow.

Matt's grin grew wider as he glanced around to make sure they weren't being overheard and then moved just a touch closer. "Go on an adventure with me." He wriggled his brows mischievously.

"An adventure?" The hand remained on the hip and the brow was still arched but a smile was forming as she considered the idea. "Where to?"

"Wellllll, …" Matt drew out the word. "Let's see. I can't leave town for any sort of long trip, there's a gold shipment coming in on Friday. And as you look to be too busy to…"

"To what?" The hand left the hip but the brow was still arched. The smile grew wider.

"Well, I was just thinking, I might be able to take a few hours off tomorrow and perhaps you and I could maybe go out to Spring Creek and…"

"Do we have to wait that long?" She interrupted. "We're not that busy around here."

Matt feigned surprise. "But it's just about dark outside."

"What's a matter," she said in the low seductive voice that always drove him crazy. "You afraid of the dark? Or just afraid of being with me in the dark?"

"I'll have a buggy in the alley behind here in an hour." He grinned.

"That long?" She worked hard to keep from laughing as a cowboy came near them and Matt jumped like he'd been pinched.

"Half an hour." Matt said as he turned and quickly made his way out of the saloon.

Kitty watched him for just a moment, before turning to Sam. "Sam, I'm going to take the night off. Think you can handle things here?"

"Sure can." His smile held concern. "Are you not feeling good?"

"Oh, no, Sam. I feel fine. As a matter of fact," she grinned as she turned for the stairs. "I feel just like going on an adventure."

Sam hadn't heard the conversation she'd had with Marshal Dillon, but by the smile on her face and the spring in her step, he knew who her adventure would be with. "Yes, Ma'am." He chuckled as she practically ran up the stairs. "Yes, Ma'am and I hope it's an excellent adventure at that."

The End.


End file.
